“Then we’re safe,” said Lee.

Louise looked at him doubtfully.  She knew not what to make of this talk and his portentous air, and felt a new apprehension rising in her mind.

“What is it?  What has happened now, Lee?” she whispered.

But all at once he began to laugh.  He caught her hand and holding it gazed, smiling, into her eyes.  Then he drew from his pocket an envelope, which (still keeping prisoner the hand he had captured) he waved to and fro before her eyes.

“If I didn’t know you well, I’d think you had lost your wits,” she cried.

“I have—­wits and heart both.  With joy!  Wait, I’ll take the letter out so that you can read it.  The only blessed thing I ever knew her to do!  I bless her for it, at any rate.”  He pulled the letter and the clipping from their cover and laid them in Louise’s hand.  “Read, read the tidings!”

The girl’s fingers began to tremble as her eyes flitted along the lines.  But she read no more than the first part of the letter.  She turned to him with her eyes misty, her face radiant.

“I could weep for happiness—­but I’m not going to.”  She made a little dab with her handkerchief at her lashes.  “Oh, Lee, to think you’re free!  And that now we may love each other!”

“I thought we did.”

“Of course we did—­but you know what I mean.”

“You didn’t read it all,” said he.  “You don’t know yet the poor opinion she has of me.”

Louise crumpled the letter in her hand and cast it into the flames.

“Nor do I want to know it,” she exclaimed.  “All I care about is my own opinion of you, and our love.  That’s enough.  Perhaps we shall be all the happier for the little misery she caused us.”

Her eyes dwelt proudly upon him, upon his face that showed new lines of strength, that was clear and calm, that revealed a spirit come to full manhood, that was luminous with the love she inspired.  He had taken her hands and was regarding her tenderly.

“Ruth rendered me one service,” said he.  “She taught me that there’s an appearance which may be mistaken for the substance.  That shall be to her credit.”  He sat silent, smiling thoughtfully for a moment.  Then he raised his eyes and drew Louise toward him.  “But you, Louise, awoke real love.”

His arms enclosed her fast and their lips met in a first kiss.

“We shall walk among the flowers and in the orchard again, Lee dear,” she murmured, “as we did once before.  And I shall bring you buttermilk as I did that morning—­but there will be no Charlie Menocal.”

“No.  Charlie won’t annoy us in the future.”

“And when the snow is gone we’ll ride along your canal——­”

“Our canal now, sweetheart.”

“Along our canal and see where you worked so hard and struggled and won, and I’ll listen while you point here and there and tell of the obstacles overcome, and of all you did.  We shall be gay and happy.”